


Bold Accusations

by httpstiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Handcuffs, Home Invasion, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual Bondage, Pre Sterek, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Season 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You killed my little sister,” is the firsts sentence out of the boyfriend's mouth. “I know what you did!” he cries. </p><p> </p><p>When they bring in the second body, the other officers down at the station become suspicious. When his dad finds the third body with no leads, they decide on their suspect. </p><p>Or,</p><p>Heather's brother blames Stiles for the dissapearance of his sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bold Accusations

Stiles knows what his father has been keeping from him. It's sad that it's the only thing that makes sense. 

When they bring in the second body, the other officers down at the station become suspicious. When his dad finds the third body with no leads, they decide on their suspect. 

-

“They want me to bring you in for questioning. As of now you're a suspect and I'm going to be removed from the case.”  
The words hit him like a brick wall.   
“What?” He shouts. “How? How did this happen?” Stiles collapses back into the chair in the principle's office and lets his head fall into his hands. His dad had come with another deputy to pull him out of class. “Do they really think I'd kill my own friend– one that I literally was about to lose my virginity to? That's something big. I gave my statement I–” His dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.   
“That's another issue.”  
“What's an issue?”  
“Heather's brother noticed the missing condom. He's making accusations.”  
“Accu–? You mean he thinks I raped her?!” Stiles stood and paced the room. “What about her parents? Her mom knows me! She was practically–”  
“–Your aunt. I know this Stiles. They're vacationing out of the country right now and haven't been able to get back because of weather conditions. They don't have the full story yet and–”  
“This is bullshit,” Stiles' voice cracks. “Bull. Shit.” He rubs furiously at his eyes before his dad can see the forming tears. “Let's get this over with.”

Curious eyes watch as he gets led through the halls with his father in front of him and the deputy behind him. People whisper things and no one bothers to hide the fact that they're watching with the intense glares. It makes Stiles uncomfortable.   
Passing Scott in the hall is worse. There's a pained look, because he knows what happened, but there isn't anything he can say to prove Stiles' innocence. 

-

The interrogation is pretty horrible. The officer questioning him is being harsh with his words, treating him older than he is. Stiles is pretty sure the guy's not supposed to press as much as he is, but no one comes in to stop him.   
It makes him uncomfortable and his hands start twitching from where he clasps them in his lap. There's a lump in his throat and he's near tears.   
“Did you sexually assault Heather?!” Stiles' mouth drops open in astonishment at how rude the guy is; he really wonders if there's anyone watching from outside the window at all. He knows his dad isn't because he's suspended from the case.  
“No,” Stiles chokes out. “Heather is a close–” he chokes up again, “–was a close friend. Our moms were basically best friends. When her mom was babysitting we bathed together— which was at age three!”   
“If there was no history of relationship, why were you about to have sex with her?”  
“She said she didn't want to be a seventeen year old virgin,” Stiles admits sheepishly, hand still twitching. “She probably chose me because we didn't have a sexual relationship that it could ruin. We were friends that trusted each other. I was about lose it too, just saying, and she initiated the first move– that I have witnesses for.”  
“You have no witnesses in the wine cellar.”  
“The one beneath the house with a too-high-to-reach window and stairs that lead to the main entry way of the house! How could I have possible even moved her anywhere?!”  
“You thought ahead!”  
“God, why are you so sure that it was me?!” Stiles screams, letting his tears burst. “You're wasting your time questioning me when there's someone out there that could be killing more people! The last guy that showed up dead was found while I was in school and last seen leaving an animal clinic, which is across the city from where I live and my dad is a key witness to me making him dinner that night!”  
“You killer her! Admit it!” The door bursts open with one of the deputies and a pissed off face.   
“That's enough, Rogers!” she shouts.   
But it's too late, Stiles is curling up on himself and he feels the panic hitting at full speed. Before it can over-take him, he hears his dad run in shouting about harassment and demanding to know why the interrogation wasn't being overlooked.   
“Dad–” The room silences at the pain-laced voice and he's by his side in a second.   
“Stiles, what is it? Is it a panic attack?” Stiles nods, feeling himself slide off the chair, unable to hold himself up anymore. His dad guides him to he floor slowly, and attempts to help him through breathing exercises.  
They don't work. 

-

Even after the attack has passed, the pain in his chest remains and his limbs feel heavy and weak. His dad has to help him out to the car and he holds his hand the entire way home. 

-

The next day at school is exhausting and he could really do without all the looks he's been getting. He just wants to go home and sleep, but he's also starving and wants a decent meal.   
He skips cross country practice and heads to the market to buy some food.   
In the parking lot, he sees Officer Rogers with his boyfriend and tries not to glare. There's the hanging threat of being suspended from duty if he comes in any sort of contact with Stiles again. His boyfriend, however, openly stares at Stiles with a wild look in his eyes. It makes him uncomfortable, but he can't place the message that's trying to be sent. 

-

Rogers doesn't bother to hide his face when he breaks into the Stilinski household later that evening. Neither does his boyfriend.   
They find Stiles in the kitchen, where he'd been washing dishes. But Stiles had heard the intruders beforehand and already has the phone in his hand, about to dial 911. He barely manages to hit the call button and the same time the boyfriend attacks. He gets pinned to the floor and the phone cracks underneath Rogers' foot. The still lit screen doesn't go unnoticed by Stiles and he prays that the only thing broken is the outer casing and that the call will go through. 

“You killed my little sister,” is the firsts sentence out of the boyfriend's mouth. “I know what you did!” he cries.   
It all makes sense now, why Officer Rogers had been so hostile in the interview.   
“I didn't!” Stiles yells. “I swear!”  
“You assaulted her!”  
“Are you crazy man?! I would never!” Stiles cries out. “She was–”  
“–your friend?” Rogers cuts in. “We've heard it before Stiles!”   
A punch from the boyfriend lands across Stiles' face so hard that his vision blurs. They take the time to drag him out to the dining room. When his vision clears, he begins to struggle and scream. He yells for help and for them to stop, but it results with a gut punch, and then several across the face. He feels inside of his cheek clash against his teeth mid-shout and blood fills his mouth. In a daze, his tongue sweeps across the hanging skin on the inside of his mouth. It stings and makes him whimper as they throw him on the table.   
“My dad–”  
“–has a night shift and another murder to deal with.”  
Stiles tries to push himself up, despite the swimming vision, but he gets pressed right back down to the table. His head smacks down and he groans at the impact.   
“Please, just stop,” he pleads.  
“Stop?!” The boyfriend shouts as Rogers digs through a bag behind him. “Did my sister ask you to stop?! I bet she did and you forced–”  
“I didn't do–” another punch.   
“I know you did!” The guy shouted, sounding on the verge of hysterics. “And you'll get to see how it feels!” He laughs. “Karma is sweet, isn't it Stiles?”  
“No, no no no no–”   
Heather's brother holds him down while Rogers pulls out handcuffs and begins to secure him to the table. His right wrist gets connected to one leg of the table while the left goes to the one coordinating leg. The length of the handcuffs has his hands hanging over the edge and pulled at an awkward angle.   
He's taken to screaming again, but doesn't get very far because duck tape wraps his head multiple times, cutting off all sounds.   
His legs last as long as his shouts did. Rogers smiles as his boyfriend holds his ankles, then lifts his arm over his head. Bent at a ninety-degree angle, he holds his own wrist, stretching it, then brings it down on to Stiles' knee with a sickening pop and pain. 

They take to leaving bruises on Stiles, taking time and pressing into the forming ones.  
Heather's brother writes on the duck tape with a thick Marks-a-lot marker and kisses him through the tape. Stiles shudders, but it goes unnoticed compared to his entire body tremble.   
It gets worse when he pulls the button to his jeans open.   
“Is this what you did Stiles?” The guy is crazy. He's crazy and mentally unstable along with Rogers. Stiles never knew the guy, so he must've been a new guy after the Kanima killed most of the ones at the station.   
Rogers watches as his boyfriend unzips Stiles pants. Stiles would kick out with his good leg, but it was tied to his bad one, and it'd move both. 

“Do you like this Stiles?” He asks. Stiles shakes his head in response.   
“Tony, get on with it. We don't have all night.”  
“I'm taking my time with the little shit.” His name is Tony.   
Tony turns back to Stiles. His finger slips into the waistband of Stiles underwear and pulls it down an inch.   
“Do you like this?” Stiles shakes his head no through tears. The marker shows itself again and the cold tip comes in contact with his exposed skin. He writes something, but Stiles isn't lucid enough to tell.   
Tony's hand goes flat against his stomach and rubs around, slowly sliding down until his fingers breach Stiles' underwear. He stops and let's his hand rest there. He's only a few inches from his actual penis.   
“Do you want me to stop Stiles?” Stiles nods and sobs out, nostrils flaring and eyes pleading.   
“That's too bad.” His pants and underwear are pulled down in one swift motion and Tony rubs up and down the inside of Stiles' thighs. His face hovers over Stiles face now and pulls the marker to his head. He writes another word. 

-

They leave him like that, exposed on the table and still restrained. His dad leaves a voicemail on the house phone saying that he may not be home before Stiles heads to school. His dad mutters something and laughs through the speaker.   
“It's Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. I'll see you when I get home Stiles.”  
As much as he dreads the moment, he wants him home now.

-

Someone knocks at the door around 9:00 a.m. He starts shouting through the duck tape and yanks on the handcuffs with all his might. Tears start streaming down his face and he prays that whoever is at the door will hear him. 

-

He wants to know more about this three-fold death thing. It's the only reason he's here at his front door. It's not because he wants to know how he's doing after Scott mentioned what happened at the station. He just needs information. 

But if it were just that, it wouldn't have taken him a full minute before knocking. He refused to intrude through the window. (It was closed. He checked.)

He knocks and waits for a moment. There's silence, no pounding footsteps coming down the stairs, and it's unusual for spastic Stiles. He listens closer.   
There's a heartbeat in the house that's erratic and a muffled sound.   
“Stiles?” He calls out. “Stiles, it's Derek. Are you okay?”   
The shouts only get louder and it's then that he can tell they're being suppressed.   
Derek kicks the door in. 

 

Stiles is stripped and laying across the table. Blood, bruises, and tears cover him and words are marked on his skin. There's red where he handcuffs restrain him and Derek wonders how long he's been exposed and restrained like this. 

Derek approaches fast, but smoothly and brings a hand up to cup Stiles' face and looks him in the eyes. Stiles is shaking and terrified.   
“Stiles, I'm going to help you out okay? I'm just going to call an ambulance. You need medical assistance outside of my experience.” His voice is surprisingly calm as he reads the word 'killer' in thick, black ink across the boy's forehead.   
Stiles nods and Derek immediately calls 911. 

When he hangs up, he decides that the hand cuffs should go first. He doesn't want to lift Stiles' head at an awkward angle to undo the duck tape. He says that much to Stiles and proceeds to snap the handcuffs off. He doesn't care about explaining that later, he only cares about this moment.   
Stiles' hands are cold and he has trouble moving his arms when they're finally free. Derek helps pull him to a sitting position, though he leans his entire side onto Derek's chest. He cradles his wrists by hunching over them and keeping them over his crotch in attempt to hide himself.   
Derek hears sirens, but still too far away.   
The duck tape says 'slut' and takes longer to undo once it comes to the part that actually sticks. Derek absorbs some pain so it doesn't hurt as much when it peels away.   
The first this Stiles does is spit some blood onto the table.   
Without letting go of Stiles he manages to claw off the ropes that secure his ankles, then pulls his underwear and pants up. He tries to ignore the word 'Rapist' that marks the skin.   
Stiles doesn't speak the entire time and it's concerning Derek. 

-

When the ambulance arrive is when the sheriff arrives. Stiles has a shock blanket wrapped around him, along with Derek Hale.   
The man ignores him and worries about his son first.   
“Stiles?” Stiles' head tilts up from where it's leaned against Derek's shoulder. He takes one long glance before looking back down.   
“Stiles, you need to tell us who did this.”   
“He's not speaking,” Derek grunts. “Not to me, or the ambulance. He won't let me step away and he won't let me move him.”  
The sheriff sighs and looks at Stiles.   
“I need to know who did this so–”  
“Rogers and his boyfriend, Tony. Heather's brother Tony.”   
Derek is slightly startled by the abrupt voice, but Sheriff Stilinski's face contorts into anger and he's about to explode, but one more look at his son and he stamps it down.   
“What did they do?” he snarls. 

Stiles tells him everything and Derek never leaves his side.


End file.
